


It Suits You (the blood in your hair and the axe in your hand)

by twitchy_hands



Category: South Park
Genre: F/M, Other, POV Craig Tucker, Teens being teens, accidental yet at the same time intentional murders, kenny still has his immortality in this AU (in fact its basically the cause of the whole story), or you can work with the assumption that its all in craigs head go wild, this straight romance is brought to you by a gay man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-17 20:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14196711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twitchy_hands/pseuds/twitchy_hands
Summary: Unfortunately there were no second chances with death.Kenny turned this solid fact on its head by opening the wide double doors at 7:45 on Monday.(a murder au? a highschool au? a horror comedy with supernatural themes?)





	1. The Hook

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thank you to Blame Canada for helping me edit this, im very new to writing and she helped an unbelievable amount !! you should go check out her work she has some amazing sp fics

It started with a hook. 

Specifically one that Kenny McCormick had the misfortune of getting impaled on. It was an interesting experience. Craig watched the blood drip down the shorter boys chin, inspected it pooling atop his lip while the rest of the grade panicked. He felt like he should be more upset than he was- sure Kenny was never a close friend but he had nothing against the guy. He was sad, supposedly. Or rather he was meant to be sad, or shocked or anything other than an empty dread in the pit of his stomach. It didn't feel like enough. Unfortunately there were no second chances with death. 

Kenny turned this solid fact on its head by opening the wide double doors at 7:45 on Monday. 

People can't just come back from the dead. It's a funny notion, to think Kenny could be something other than just Kenny. Craig had once read that fallen angels were supposed to be overwhelmingly attractive and the short blond who scuttled under the crowds didn't exactly fit the mold. It's not that he was necessarily unattractive but the limp hair and oily face left something to be desired. Smeared makeup only highlighting his hollow eyes, tight thigh high boots making his legs like sticks and oversized jackets covering his torso formlessly. Effort in all the wrong places.

The next day was a blur, every glimpse of Kenny slowing time, every bright laugh in the corridor reminding Craig more and more of the whine that escaped stained lips as the hook pushed its way through the soft concave of his lower jaw. The crunch as the rusted metal curled inside his face and burst outward. 

Craig is still unsure of his true reality, he tries to ignore the questions that make him ask which is alive and which is dead. It has been less than a week but nothing that’s happened has felt real since then. They pass each other in the hall. Kenny sees tired eyes and Craig sees a shattered nose. He also sees purple, spreading across Kenny’s face, across Craig’s vision.

“What’dya think!” a bouncy voice chirps. She twirls and poses, bright pink beret removed to show off her freshly dyed hair. Purple like jacaranda, like bruises. Craig tunes out the excited gasps and high pitched squeals, the empty complements and side gossip. Apparently Bebe had dip dyed her hair a vibrant pink one week ago and the two were currently engaged in high school combat for some reason or another. Instant approval at a friend following in your footsteps turns to instant dislike at an idea being ‘stolen.’ All caused by a simple risky text in the teenage world. 

“Well? Are you gonna say something or just stare at me?” She laughs and pulls waist length hair over her shoulder. “Do you think it suits me?”

It really does, her dark hair always accentuated her pallor and the purple seems to bring forward ashen undertones. Wendy probably didn't want to hear how deathly her new hair made her look. Some people don't find that attractive. 

“It's nice.” He keeps it short. 

“Just nice?” 

“It” -brings out the dark circles under your eyes- “makes your eyes pop.” Good save. Her bashful grin’s oddly worth it. Its strange, her eyes somehow become wider than before and he sees every reflection in those deep grey eyes. The hallway has since dissipated, turning Craig’s self created social bubble into reality. “Why are you asking me.”

“Gay guys are meant to be good at this sort of thing. You're gay right?” Her tone sounds forcibly casual, prying. Wendy wants more than his opinion.

Hiding something as ridiculous as who you feel like you could love seemed dumb. It was understandable of course but Craig had no fear regarding being seen as the ‘gay’ guy. The only issue was that Craig wasn't exactly sure. He’d been vague in the past but he’d never outright answered the question when it came up. Who wants to be the person who changes their sexuality every week or so. It must be agonizing for a gossip monger.

“I like boys, yes.” 

Wendy perks up and still hasn’t lost contact with Craig's eyes. It’s slightly disturbing. Even worse due to Craig’s own uncomfortable habit of looking anywhere that isn’t the person he is speaking with. It's easy to assume she doesn't blink.

“Just boys?”

A shrill bell rings through the school. Craig doesn’t stay to hear if she has anything to add. He remembers that Wendy and Stan had recently broken up. Wendy always followed the same formula; break up, rebound, make Stan miss what he had until he begs for it back, get together only to repeat the process months later. 

“Your hairs nice too!” she shouted.

He wants to tell her he’s been dying it deep blue for close to a year. But that would mean turning around. He’s never been quite on time to his next period.

Kenny begins giving him weirder looks every time they lock eyes. Craig pulls at his hair, wrings his hands and glares right back. If Kenny wanted to be angry then Craig would be angry right back. The air around the two thickens, stilling Craig’s heart to see a dead man frowning from across the room. 

He taps a black felt tip against his forehead, and sighs when it drops to the floor. It probably rolls into a cracked floorboard, never to be seen again. People are wasteful like that. Kenny’s pretty wasteful if he can waltz right out of the earth and the only thing he seems to be doing with himself is dumpster diving and buying cigarettes for fourteen year old's.

It has been three weeks and Craig has come to a conclusion. Kenny has just as short of a life span as his own. Most likely shorter if the boy continues the way he is. Sometimes it seems as if he wants to die, or at the very least isn't afraid of it happening. Despite his daredevil tendencies there is nothing pointing to more than mortality. Craig had been watching Kenny for so long he forgot to watch the surrounding people. There was no grief or rejoice at seeing him seemingly rise from the dead. Everything was exactly the same as it had been just one day before the event that wouldn't leave Craig’s brain. Flashes of blood projecting over Kenny’s face, which otherwise seeped only grease. 

Someone like Kenny would probably wish to be ever-living, or maybe he’d be happy with his temporality like Craig was. Not being able to leave the world behind must be a terrible fate. He said as much to the wide-eyed girl beside him as they look over Bebe's backyard from their high vantage point. 

The late party wasn’t a planned outing, but Clyde wanted to go and where Clyde went Craig followed. It was less of a ‘party’ and more of a teens-who-hate-their-lives-get-drunk with a sprinkle of Bebe attempting to climb the social ladder. It's almost sad how she works so hard for something that’ll be forgotten. At the end of the night Craig would repeat what he does after every so-called party: find his only friend and carry him out onto the lawn. Bebe’s house is pretty close to Craig’s. He’d leave Clyde in the grass staring at the night sky until the guy sobered up enough to walk to Craig’s place. Thomas Tucker had a strict rule about being drunk in his house- Laura had glared until Clyde was an exception.

Wendy looks down at her shoes, biting her lip, and she puts pressure on the drain pipe to push herself further away from the edge of the roof. “I mean, I guess? I think it’d be pretty cool to live forever actually but you do bring up a good point! Why specifically Kenny?”

Craig huffs, “Oh you know. Just thinking about him.”

“Oh?” She raises her eyebrow slightly.

“No, no. Not like that.”

He could see Clyde from here, the roof was a good way to keep an eye on the circle of disorderly teens in Bebe’s backyard while being ultimately removed from the situation. He hadn't expected a dainty girl with dulling purple hair to catch him on the way out the second story window. Usually Craig liked to be alone but he couldn't exactly stop her. He just silently climbed through while she whined about being forced to attend drunken get-togethers, mentioning something about kindred spirits. Besides, it must be awful to be in an ongoing spat with the host. He wouldn't be surprised if Bebe has intentionally excluded her from whatever was going on.

It isn't as bad as he expected. She’s just as still as him. Watching her stare down the party in a bright pink dress is somehow refreshing. Her lidded eyes and downturned lips give a beautiful contrast. 

“Why do you think about death so much? It's not like its gonna happen anytime soon y’know?”

“Who said it's all the time. Maybe it's a hobby.”

Wendy smiles softly. “Funny hobby.” She quickly adds, “D’ya think he’ll do it?” 

He turns to look at what had begun their morbid conversation in the first place. There’s Kenny; sitting atop a branch in the tree overlooking Bebe’s in-ground pool. Someone dared him to jump. Craig doesn't think he’ll make it to the pool before he hits the ground. 

“He isn't high enough for how close the tree is to the water. Probably shouldn't.”

Wendy hums, “Drunk kids don't really think about what they should and shouldn't do. Uh, do we go down and stop it?”

“Well,” Craig begins, “you can. I'm fine here.”

Scratching at the roofs tiles she squints in the direction of the pool. “You know what? I'm cool here too.” 

She was kind of pretty, looking up at him and grinning shyly. Like she was trying to belong somewhere she knew she didn’t. He hated seeing that awkward smile vanish from her face.

The second time Kenny died was somehow more bearable. Maybe it was the distance between himself and the body, or maybe it was the fact he was more focused on keeping Wendy from falling from the roof as she lost her balance in her scramble for the window.

When she finally pushed herself into the house, dropping into the upstairs study with a thud, Craig stayed where he was. A broken neck seemed like a better way to go than a hook to the face. The idiot had dived and as a result, was stuck motionless in a small red puddle, dripping into the water, diluting. He was so close. What a shame. 

Lo and behold, just like before, he is perfectly fine- quicker this time. Craig has the pleasure of staring him down as early as second period the next day.


	2. Building (Breaking)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How fucking ominous is that?” she gasps between sentences. “Hi I’m Craig and I know where you live!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again to tori!! (Blame Canada) for reading thru this and helping with editing!!!

The insanity of the situation continues to build in Craig’s mind. 

Wendy remembers their roof conversation. She doesn't remember anything afterwards. Yet her piercing screech makes his temple throb when he sees her in the halls, showing small shy smiles similar to the one he saw morph into horror that night. Clyde had been giving him concerned glances since last Friday. Craig hasn't glimpsed a mirror for three days, the surface reminding him far too much of reflective water. Who knows how unkempt he is. Kenny’s body lying face down, so close to the edge, returns with vigor. 

It isn't fair that Craig is solely stuck with the constant mental image. 

“You’re sure.” He attempts to preserve a straight face, a casual facade. “Absolutely sure that you don't remember anything.”

She skips beside him, kicking up her dull purple peacoat. “I mean? I don't think I drank that much but I must’ve right? I was sitting with you and then...I don't know? I woke up.” She pulls her hair over her shoulder and strokes her hands through it as she walks. The washable purple dye had mostly faded out over the past three weeks. “Unless I was slipped something?” she murmurs. “You don’t think-”

“They wouldn’t,” Craig cut in. “We have some wild people in our grade but I doubt any of them would fucking roofie you. The only asshole I can see going that far is Cartman.” 

“He wasn’t invited.”

“You have your answer.”

They stop at a small wooden bench, brushing off the peeling paint before sitting. The majority of their class had abandoned Wendy and no matter how temporary, he didn't miss the downturn of her lips as groups of the high school elite meandered past. The boys had taken Stan’s side, the girls had taken Bebe’s. Dreadful timing had left Wendy almost truly alone. Almost. Teenagers could be ridiculously petty when they wanted to be. It wasn't something Craig took part of.

Craig had often spent lunch alone. Clyde used lunch for tutoring and he didn’t believe that was going to change any time soon considering his low grades. Wendy kept finding Craig, every single day. She has some sort of sixth sense.

Wendy had quickly pushed herself by his side effortless and he honestly didn't mind. She was a captivating person. Craig thought he had extensive knowledge on the way popular girls worked. Clyde often had flings with Lola, Esther, Jenny and other common names that sounded similar to indie singers. Bebe was around the most. Craig believed he had pinpointed the exact reason they all acted the same. Popularity both boosted and condemned them.

There was no doubt that Bebe was incredibly intelligent when you looked past the purposefully dumbed down persona. She crimped her hair, perfected her makeup and never left the house in something that hadn’t been approved by a board of bratty teens. Logically Wendy should act in a similar fashion. Realistically Wendy only owned three dresses. She wore makeup because it was sparkly, cut her own bangs crooked across her forehead and when she spoke her mind people listened. 

They listened when Bebe spoke too, although for different reasons. Bebe never disclosed anything she truly thought anyway. It was disheartening. The popular archetype had stunted her. 

“Your lunch?” Wendy taps her faux fur boots against the pavement. Wendy had told him she fell in love with how fluffy and energetic fur boots looked and went out of her way to buy fake ones.

“Nah.” He pauses to blow warm air into his hands before stuffing them into the pockets of his heavy windbreaker. “Not really hungry.”

She shivers and pulls a glittery pink resin container out of her backpack. “Do you remember? What happened I mean.”

Should he tell her? The real question was would she accept it. The mystery of death had been tormenting Craig for close to four weeks now. He blamed Kenny for infiltrating his calm reality- he blamed his own mind for not rejecting the event like everyone else’s had. He momentarily blamed Wendy for being one of those people.

“Nothing happened.” Craig stands and walks away. Lunch wasn’t over for another 20 minutes.

He’s caught off guard by a rough hand grabbing him by the collar and pulling him into the schools sports shed. The door creaked from age.

“What's your fucking problem?” The boy has a slight southern twinge seeping into his voice.

“What’s yours.” 

“Don't give me that shit.” Kenny kicks the metal door, slamming it as Craig goes to reach for the rusted handle. The room darkens with only small streams of light coming from a high rectangular window. “Everytime I turn my head you’re starin’ at me all weird-like. I see you fuckin’ everywhere. Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I wanna know- “ he glares into Craig's eyes and points upwards towards the taller boys face, “what’s goin’ on.”

“Me first.”

“Wh-” He grabs Kenny’s wrist and twists, pushing him backward, knocking the boy into the door behind him. As Kenny's face connects with the metal Craig grabs his other arm. Pushes him further into the corrugated structure.

“I saw you die.”

Everything stops.

Kenny keeps his eyes forward, facing the wall. His breathing shallows. Craig is acutely aware of how stiff the smaller boy has become, feels his body tensing. The shouts and various sounds made by passing teens muffles. Craig loosens his hands from around Kenny’s wrists as the boy glances over his shoulder with sullen eyes.

“You’ve lost your mind.” Kenny slowly turns as Craig slackens his grip. He's quieter now and Craig can feel his eyes staring into his soul, searching. He sounds like he’s trying to convince Craig, rather than stating a fact.

“I thought so too. The first time.” 

“The first ti- How.” He stops, moving his attention away from Craig momentarily. “How many times?”

“Bebe’s party, and Friday four weeks ago.”

“Not my finest moments.” He fiddles with the strings on his parka.

“How do you stop it.”

Kenny looks up confused. “Stop what? Me dying? Man this has been happening for awhile, I don't think you can just st-”

“I want to stop seeing it,” Craig interrupts. “You dying.”

Kenny pauses in thought. “No one's ever remembered before, usually they just… blank out on it. Like it never happened you know? I got ripped apart piece by piece in front of you once man and a few weeks later I woke up, went to school and you flicked a cig at me. Everytime I die it’s like it resets their brains or something.” 

A thick silence washes over the room.

“Oh really.”

Kenny scratches his stubble and steps back, toward the door to the shed. Away from Craig.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “When I was younger all I wanted was for someone to remember. I'm sorry it was you.” He leaves the shed quietly. 

At the end of the day Craig was glad he owned a car. He knows Kenny often walks home, the cheapened school fees not covering the price of being added to the school bus route. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel while he waits for Kenny to exit the school. He never came out with the initial crowd, probably picking up Karen from class. She was 13 now but her and Kenny were still amazingly close. Ruby was the same age as Karen. She sometimes pretended Craig wasn't her brother.

The passenger side door opens. “Hey! I’m sorry uh, I missed the bus? I was gonna walk but I saw you sitting here and-”

“Get in Wendy.”

“So about lunch?” she begins. Craig switches gears and revs the engine before pulling out of the parking lot. “If I did anything that upset you?” she trails off, glancing up at Craig with large eyes.

“I was in a mood. I’m sorry.”

She flattens out her dress as Craig turns onto the main street. “It’s fine! Were you waiting for someone? Clyde? Now I mean, not at lunch.”

“Clyde takes the bus.”

“Right! I knew that.” Over the past few weeks Craig had noticed she had a habit of playing with her hair. Mostly when she was nervous.

“You still live in the same place.” Craig already knew the answer and while he enjoyed silence he was never one to appreciate being stuck in awkward atmospheres.

“Oh! Yeah, around the corner and then take a left and uh it should be the next street ov- Uh wait were you asking me or telling me?” She lets out a giggle and raises her eyebrow.

“Wendy-” he pauses to turn the corner- “I know where you live.” 

The resulting laughter that springs from her is almost contagious. 

“How fucking ominous is that?” she gasps between sentences. “Hi I’m Craig and I know where you live!”

“Stop! Stop doing that creepy voice I don’t- Wendy I do not sound like that!”

“Yeah you do!” She slid down in her seat, lifting her legs and kicking them into the air in the process. “Liste- Hah- Hold on I’ll do it again listen to my Cr- Craig listen to my Craig voice!”

“I hate you.” he replies unconvincingly. “I genuinely hate you. You’re the worst.” His voice raises to combat her laughter which only seems to throw her into another fit. 

“The worst!” Craig lays his head on the steering wheel in defeat as the car slows in front of Wendy’s house. When he lifts his head, he’s smiling.

The next day after school it doesn't take long to get to Kenny’s house. Surprisingly, sleeping on the idea hadn’t dissuaded it.

Craig stops to think about what he’s planning to do. If it doesnt work, it doesn't work. Kenny comes back. No consequences. No big deal. He’ll try something else.

If it does? 

Life’s a lot easier. For Craig at least. Kenny may have died an awful lot of times but Craig has a feeling that it still hurts. He’ll do it quick, for Kenny’s benefit. He tries to think about what was different than the other times. Trying to uncover the key to why he remembered Kenny’s limp body clearly. He thinks back to what Kenny had announced in the shed; ripped apart, right in front of him. False memories appear before his eyes. What it might have looked like. He can’t tell whether he’s actually remembering or if his imagination has become too overactive. Either way, Kenny’s died in the past and Craig hadn’t recalled.

It was worth a shot.

Finding him was effortless. He parked his car a street away and walked up a back alley, sharp kitchen knife in hand. It was one of his mother’s expensive ones. She had bought them online four years ago from a home shopping network and hadn't opened them since. It cuts Craig’s skin with soft pressure.

Kenny was in the backyard. Alone. Craig had become a master of scaling fences due to sneaking out after dark various times when he was younger. His height and lack of weight made it easier and quicker to get over rusting fences.

It was fast and hopefully painless. If Kenny was a reasonable guy he might not hold a grudge against what Craig had done. 

Lifting the body back over the fence was slightly more strenuous. He managed. Craig may be lean but he wasn't weak.

He left the body in some overgrown bushes a few feet or so away from the McCormick residence. He wasn't about to drag it down the street to his car but he wasn't going to leave it in their yard either. There was no telling who from his family could walk out there. The causal walk to his car and slow drive back to Kenny’s household went unnoticed. An uncomplicated body recovery. Not many people cared what you were doing around this area anyway.

He’d prepared somewhat. Duct tape, garbage bags. Craig had a body wrapped in a plastic bed protector sitting in his trunk.

On the drive back to his house he sees Wendy walking down the footpath. She turns her head to glance behind herself and Craig can just make out the soft smile. He drives past her. 

He reverses. 

“We meet again Mr. Tucker.” 

He rolls the window back up and drives off. He reverses again.

“I really thought you were gonna keep going!” She runs to the passenger door and pulls it open.

“I should have. Stop using that creepy voice, I don’t sound like that. Did you see how Clyde looked at you during morning break? Like you’d grown two heads.” 

“You’re smiling! You love it!” 

“I really don’t.” He kind of does. Her nose scrunches when she puts the voice on. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Is that so?” She pulls the seatbelt over her shoulder and laughs softly. “Where are you off to?”

“Well I was going home but then I saw this-” He breaks off and peeks at Wendy before quickly looking back out the front window. “-stunning girl walking down the street all alone and I thought-”

“Oh thats cute.” She cuts him off. “That’s really cute you fucking dork. You’re just trying to get me to stop using the voice.” 

“Now you’re the one smiling.” He pulls up to where he initially saw her. “Are you going to tell me where I’m going or are we going to keep circling this block.”

“I don’t know!” she begins, throwing her hands up. “Everywheres boring here. We can go get food?”

Craig pulled the steering wheel to the left, making a sharp turn. “Food it is then.” 

He momentarily forgot about the corpse in the back of his car. It was cold in South Park, Craig was sure it wouldn’t start smelling for an acceptable amount of time. Besides, it was a draining experience. Everything felt as if it were going a mile a minute. He wanted to slow his thoughts down a bit before he had to survey Kenny’s lifeless body once more.

It felt somewhat normal. This was meant to be happening. Ordering takeout and eating it spread out in Craig’s car, the front seats reclined back as far as they could go to use as makeshift tables and all 4 windows open. It may be an odd choice to eat in the car when the restaurant they bought the fast food from was right across from them but when Craig began walking back toward the parking lot Wendy didn’t say anything. She chooses a radio station that's playing the Top 40. 

It’s not Craig’s style of music but Wendy seems to be acquainted with the lyrics to every song that plays.

“Okay what about this one,” Craig begins. The radio is turned down slightly as Wendy finishes the remainder of her fried noodles and Craig begins to fix up the front car seats. “What if the moon landing wasn’t fake because we’re actually on the moon so technically when they filmed it here it was on the moon.”

“Trippy, what if-get this-Ted Cruz is the zodiac-”

“Wendy, I hate you.”

“See you keep saying that but!” She leaves her sentence open, instead choosing to flick him as he reaches behind the seat to adjust it back into a normal position. 

He pulls the seats lever too fast, causing it to spring forward. It just comes short of slamming into his face. Wendy doesn’t stop giggling until they’re at least two blocks from the takeout restaurants car park.

“Craig, Craig! What if-”

“Oh no.”

“Shut up! What if all the bees died right, and like, without bees how would we pollinate the flowers? Would we have to do it manually? Is that gonna be a job in the future? Just… You walk through the park and there's people in little bee suits with tweezers.”

“Bee suits.”

“Okay maybe they wouldn’t make them wear bee suits but they’d have to do it! Or like everything would die yeah? Or we’d have to make like… Little robot bees...Robot children. To pollinate.”

“Have you seen Black Mirror? From Netflix.”

“I don't have Netflix, we just watch cable.”

“You should come over sometime. I think you’d like it.”

Wendy’s reply is interrupted by the sharp bump under the tire. It rumbles the car and forces Craig to slow to a stop.

“What was that.”

“I’ve got it.”

“What was that!”

“I hit something. Like a stick or whatever. I’ve got it.” He sighed exasperatedly as she talks over him.

“Hold on I wanna-”

“Wends, get back in the car.” 

“-see what it is!”

Craig pulled a small handle under his seat, popping open the trunk. “Oh my god. Just chill.”

“Do you have a spare? I’ll help you grab the spare.”

“Wait don’t-”

The spare tire was tied to the roof of the trunk. Wendy wasn’t looking up. She slams the trunk back down quickly. Craig can’t pinpoint what her exact expression is.

He assumes it isn’t great.


End file.
